Harriet the Spy (7 page)

“‘That inward eye which is the bliss of solitude,”’ said Ole Golly calmly.

“What?”

“Wordsworth. ‘I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud.”’

“Well, don’t you?”

“What?”

“Feel sorry for them?”

“‘How sweet, how passing sweet, is solitude’!”

“What?”

“William Cowper. ‘Retirement.”’

“Ole Golly,” Harriet said loudly, “are you trying to say something?”

“Yes.”

“Well, what, then?”

“‘Solitude, the safeguard of mediocrity, is to genius the stern friend’!”

“WHAT?” Harriet screamed with exasperation.

“Emerson. ‘Conduct of Life.”’

“OLE GOLLY”—Harriet stood up. She was really furious—“do you or don’t you feel sorry for people who are alone?”

“No,” said Ole Golly, looking up quizzically at Harriet. “No, I don’t.”

“Oh,” said Harriet and sat down. “I do.”

“‘This above all: to thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.”’

Sometimes, Harriet thought, I wish she would just shut up.

O
n the next Saturday night Mr. and Mrs. Welsch were going to a very big party. They had been talking about it for days, and when they were getting ready to go out they were all in a fluster. Mr. Welsch was put out because he had to wear white tie and tails and couldn’t find anything—like studs and things. Mrs. Welsch’s dress narrowly missed not getting back from the cleaners in time, and altogether almost everything went wrong. By the time they left they were in a state of high grumpiness and Harriet was glad to see them go. Ole Golly entertained herself usually on nights like this by making some new recipe, like Lobster Thermidor or
choucroute garnie
, anything that neither she nor Harriet had ever tasted before. This Saturday, however, Ole Golly seemed in a funny mood.

Harriet bounced into the kitchen, saying, “Well? What are we having?” and Ole Golly just looked at her as though she had never made a new dish in her life.

“Uh, I got some club steaks, asparagus, and we’ll have a baked potato. You like asparagus, don’t you?” She said all this as though she weren’t listening to herself.

This was really strange. Harriet felt nervous. Ole Golly knew perfectly well everything Harriet liked and didn’t like. Besides, she happened to love asparagus. Harriet sat down at the table and looked closely at Ole Golly. She didn’t even answer the question about asparagus, as she really didn’t see any need to. Ole Golly was checking the potatoes which were baking in the oven.

“What are we going to do tonight?” Harriet asked tentatively.

“What?” asked Ole Golly.

“Ole Golly, what’s the matter with you? I said, what are we going to do tonight?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Harriet, I didn’t hear. I was thinking of something else.” Ole Golly, Harriet could tell, was deliberately making her face bright and cheery because she didn’t want Harriet to ask her what the matter was. “I thought we might sit down here in the kitchen and play a game of checkers.”

“In the kitchen? But we
always
watch television when we play checkers. You said that both things were boring by themselves but if we did them together at least your mind was occupied a little.”

“Yes,” said Ole Golly and took the asparagus out of the freezer.

“Well! What do you mean, then, ‘sit down here and play checkers’? There isn’t any
television
down here.” Harriet felt as if she were talking to a child.

“Well, I just thought, for a change, you know, we’d sit down here.” Ole Golly kept her back turned to Harriet.

The buzzer on the service entrance rang.

“My, I wonder who that could be?” Ole Golly said in a light, strange voice and rushed so hard to the door she almost knocked over a chair.

Harriet stared in amazement as Ole Golly threw the door open to reveal Mr. Waldenstein, all dressed up in a good suit with a bunch of roses in his hand.

“Why, Mr. Waldenstein,” said Ole Golly. She knew, thought Harriet, all the time.

“Good evening, Miss Golly, so very nice of you to invite me to dine with you, and…”—he looked at Harriet who shot him an outraged look—“and with your charming ward.” He was obviously planning to say more, but Harriet was sending so many nasty looks in his direction that he stammered a bit and stopped.

Ole Golly took his arm and led him to the table. “Harriet,” she said in the same strained voice, “this is Mr. George Waldenstein. Mr. Waldenstein, this is Miss Harriet M. Welsch.”

Well, thought Harriet, at least she remembered the M! Harriet stood up automatically and shook hands with Mr. Waldenstein, who beamed all over his shiny clean face. His mustache glistened in the light and his shirt front was so white it was almost blinding.

“Well,” said Ole Golly, “do sit down.”

Harriet and Mr. Waldenstein sat down. Then nobody knew what to do. Harriet looked at the ceiling. Mr. Waldenstein smiled at Ole Golly, and Ole Golly hopped around the kitchen nervously. “Well, Mr. Waldenstein…” Ole Golly began, but Mr. Waldenstein held up his hand in protest.

“George… please.”

“Oh, yes,” said Ole Golly, giggling in a way that Harriet had never heard before and instantly hated. “George, then, would you like a drink?”

“No. I never take anything. Thank you very much though, Catherine.”

Ole Golly seemed pleased with this answer. Harriet stopped looking at the ceiling and looked at Ole Golly. I wonder, she thought, why that fat ole Mrs. Golly named her Catherine. I have never thought about her being named Catherine or about her being a little girl and going to school and being called Catherine. I wonder what she looked like as a little girl. Even though Harriet tried her best she couldn’t for the life of her imagine that big nose on a little girl.

Harriet discovered suddenly that Mr. Waldenstein had been staring at her steadily for some time. She decided to stare him down. He looked back at her with such a look of innocent pleasure that she was disconcerted. He looked as though he were thinking about her. Although she hated to admit it, there was a look of intelligence in his eyes. He leaned toward her.

“I think we have a friend in common, Harriet.”

Uh-oh, thought Harriet, he’s trying to make friends.

“Who’s that?” she said in a very unconcerned way.

“Little Joe Curry,” Mr. Waldenstein said simply, then beamed in obvious pleasure at this feat of his.

“Really?” Harriet was very surprised.

“Yes, Little Joe and I are in the same business, you know, and he and I had a talk wherein we discovered that we knew the same charming little girl.”

Oh, thought Harriet, if adults would only learn how obvious they are.

“He says that he has seen you many times on his delivery trips,” continued Mr. Waldenstein.

“He certainly eats a lot.”

“Does he? Yes, I imagine he would. He is a growing boy.”

“Well… he hasn’t seen me anyplace else, has he?”

“What do you mean, anyplace else?”

“Anyplace else, that’s all.”

“He sees you walking home from school.”

“Oh.” Harriet felt relief. She sat looking at the table top. Somehow she felt that now she was equally responsible for keeping this limping conversation on its feet and this irritated her.

“Little Joe Curry is a profound enigma to me, Catherine.” Mr. Waldenstein leaned back expansively, obviously feeling that he had conquered the enemy and could now relax. “He has no other ambition than to be a delivery boy. After all, to me this makes very little sense.”

“That’s because you have known another life,” said Ole Golly and smiled at him.

Harriet wondered what other life Mr. Waldenstein had known.

“Yes,” he said, turning to Harriet, “it is one thing to come to this the way I have, to give myself time to think, and another thing to just be this all your life and never want more. I had a big business, you see, Harriet. Once long ago I had a very big business. I was a jeweler. I made a lot of money. I had a wife and a son, and my wife went to Florida every year with my son. I had a lot of money and I was the most miserable man alive.” He looked at Harriet as though he expected absolution. She said nothing at all but looked straight at him. “I had a terrible ulcer, terrible pains every time I ate or drank. Life was worth nothing. It was so much dust in my hands. And then…” Mr. Waldenstein looked off into space as though he had forgotten what he was going to say.

“Life is very strange,” said Ole Golly gently. This was one of her favorite expressions, and hearing it, Harriet felt somehow reassured.

“Yes,” said Mr. Waldenstein and then, having recovered himself, he continued. “I saw that life was going to be dust if I kept it up, always dust, nothing more. And so I told my wife to take all the money and my son too. I told her that if she wanted to come with me and start over she could. But she didn’t.” A harshness crept into his voice. “She didn’t. Well, that was her choice. We all make choices.”

“Every minute of every day,” Ole Golly intoned.

“And so I became a delivery boy. And suddenly life was sweet.” Mr. Waldenstein let out a ringing little laugh, the laugh of a happy child.

“Well,” said Harriet, because she could think of nothing else.

“It must have taken a lot of courage,” said Ole Golly, bending over the stove.

“No,” said Mr. Waldenstein, “—desperation.”

Suddenly Harriet liked him. She couldn’t think why, but she did.

“And now…”—he had a funny, shy smile on his face—“now I have some news. I have been thinking about two living as one.… I have some good news. I am promoted to cashier. I start next week.”

“Why, that’s wonderful!” Ole Golly turned with a big smile, and Harriet saw with surprise that there were tears glistening at the corner of her eyes. “Isn’t that wonderful, Harriet? We must celebrate.”

“I should think it would be more fun riding the bike than all those numbers,” said Harriet.

Mr. Waldenstein threw back his head and laughed. “And I have thought as you, Harriet, all this time. I needed that time”—he considered a second—“but now, now I have had my time to think. I know that it will never be dust again. Never. And so I can work harder, and climb a little, and have a little more”—he held up his hand—“not
much
more, but a little, because I have… I have myself now. I know the value… the value of things.” He tried desperately to express himself.

“Well,” said Harriet again.

“Well, now,” said Ole Golly. “How about some dinner now?” and she began putting dinner on the table.

Mr. Waldenstein watched her warmly, appreciatively. When she had finished and they were all eating, he said, “I would like to suggest a celebration. I would like to suggest taking you two charming ladies to the cinema,” and he smiled sweetly at both of them.

“Oh, no, we couldn’t do that.” Ole Golly looked very stern.

“Why not, why not? Come on, Ole Golly, let’s go.” Harriet wanted suddenly, desperately to go. She felt Mr. Waldenstein deserved something, and besides she never got to go to the movies.

“Oh, no,” said Ole Golly, “out of the question.”

“Oh, dear,” said Mr. Waldenstein. “And why is that, Catherine?”

“Why, it’s obvious! I have my work too, Mr. Wal—George, and I am here with my charge for the evening. I must stay here. It would never do.”

“Oh, of course, what a pity.” Mr. Waldenstein looked terribly sad.

“But Ole Golly, they won’t be in till late. You know that. When Daddy wears a white tie they’re never in until real late. You told me that.” Harriet felt prepared to beg all night.

“After all, Catherine, no harm is done by it. Perhaps for once.…” He smiled so sweetly. “And it would give me such pleasure.”

Ole Golly blushed again, deeply. Flustered suddenly, she got up quickly and went to the refrigerator. “I forgot your milk, Harriet. And would you like coffee or tea, George? I’ve forgotten to give us anything to drink.”

“Can I have a coke instead?” asked Harriet.

“No,” said Ole Golly. “You will have milk.”

“But it’s got radiation in it.”

“So have you got it in you. You’re having milk.” This was the Ole Golly Harriet knew—stern, uncompromising. It made Harriet feel comfortable.

“If some danger were to come to the child, I would understand, Catherine, but as it is—a simple movie, a soda perhaps afterward at the drugstore—no harm will come,” Mr. Waldenstein pleaded simply.

“Oh, boy,” said Harriet and jumped up from the table. “I’ll go get the paper and see what’s playing.”

She ran upstairs to the library and went through the paper quickly to see what she wanted to see first before they got hold of it. She studied the paper thoroughly. She was torn between a spooky thing about children with funny eyes and a spectacular about the Greek gods. She decided that it was the better part of wisdom to suggest the latter. Anyway, it was in color. She ran to the kitchen, yelling the whole way.

“Look, look, Ole Golly, look, it’s just perfect. It’s what I’m studying and I like Apollo and Athena the best, look, I can learn all about them.” When she hit the kitchen she noticed a change. Mr. Waldenstein and Ole Golly were looking into each other’s eyes. They both had perfectly ridiculous expressions on their faces. They didn’t even seem to have heard her. Ole Golly looked up dreamily.

“It’s all decided, Harriet. We’re going to the movies,” she said sweetly.

“Oh, BOY,” said Harriet and sat down and gobbled up the rest of her dinner.

“Not so fast”—Mr. Waldenstein laughed—“the movie will be there.”

Harriet noticed that she was the only one eating. Evidently they both had no appetite that night. “See, here are the starting times,” she said nervously, because she had the feeling that if she didn’t get them out the door they would forget all about it.

Ole Golly looked at the paper. “I suppose we should go to the early show, just to be safe,” she said.

“Goody,” said Harriet, and finishing her dinner in a whirl, she jumped up and raced upstairs for her coat.

When she got downstairs again, they both had their coats on. The three of them went out the back door, around to the front of the house, and there they stood in confusion, confronted by the delivery bike.